Page 53 of I Can't Even Think Straight

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for our first session back since

before the summer holiday.

Matt and I haven’t spoken

about yesterday in the lunch hall,

and I don’t think we will.

What’s done is done, says my angel.

Let’s try to move on.

This new boy may be the fresh air you need.

The new boy looks mixed, Black and Asian,

like that tennis player Naomi Osaka.

“Heishot,” I whisper back to Matt.

The new boy smiles when he looks my way,

and I worry he’s heard me.

The new boy wears a fresh-out-the-box

youth squad T-shirt: I can see the creases

from where it was folded,

waiting to be claimed

and worn for the first time.

When Matt and I introduce ourselves to him,

we find out his name is Obi

and he’s done some bouldering before;

in fact, his private school has its own wall.

“Do you have a boxing gym as well?”

Matt asks Obi enthusiastically.

I can’t tell if Matt’s flirting or just being friendly.

“Yes, but I don’t really go in for contact sports,”

says Obi. “We have a pool, which I use a lot.

My issue with our school’s bouldering wall is

they hardly ever change the problems.”

He looks at me. “I like new challenges,” he says.

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